the way of the fight, gsp.pdf

7/27/2019 The Way of the Fight, GSP.pdf

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Im scared.

Im scared because Im thinking of a moment that changed my

life and altered who I am, and I cant get away from it. I real-ize that being scared is part of who I am. Fear is the genesis of

most of the good things that have occurred in my life. Fear is the

beginning of every success Ive lived.

But it affects my perspective, both physical and logical. Thats

the way it works. It doesnt just change what happens inside of

you, it also immediately impacts how you relate to the world all

around you. Howor ifyou remember. Because of fear, other

information that seems totally basic and elementarylike what

you were doing and why you were thereare gone. The present

loses its power when pitted against fear.

Fear is magical and possesses all kinds of superpowers. Allit takes is a few words or a flash of images to trigger its strength.

And the moment you see or hear whatever it is that scared you,

your life changes.

And yet, because Im scared, details I dont usually notice are

right there in my mindI can see them and their shapes, I can

sense them, and I feel like I could reach out and touch them. But

not the whole picture; some things dissolve.

Andthatswhat happened to me on the day my good friend

Dr. Sbastien Simard called my mobile.


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20 gsp: the way of the fight

In fact, Im sitting here trying to think of where I was when

the phone rang, but I cant remember. Id like to know what I

was doing when I took the call, but thats not possible either. The

memories attached to that moment are lost somewhere inside

me, and I know its because of the fear.

What I can recalland the clarity of that recollection is odd,

like a slow-motion dreamis that I was standing in a long hall-

way, alone. I see white walls and a hall and Im walking down

the middle of it toward who knows where. The phone rings and

I know I have to answer because its my surgeon. I stop, which is

odd because usually I walk and talk. But here I stop, I look at thescreen and see his name, I push the button and I put the phone to

my ear. And this is when he tells me: Georges, you have a torn

ACL. Your knee ligament is fully torn. You need major surgery.

Youre not fighting for a long time.

Ever since I was nine years old Ive known the unique feel-

ing generated by fear. It makes me laugh now, but thats because

I know better. Its because, without the bullies and the assholes

and the jerks, I would never have become who I am today. I

would never have been lucky enough to prove them wrong. I

would be somebody different, and nobody can know who that

person would or might have been. I just dont care about the pos-sibilities because I cant change any of the things that have come

before me. All I know for certain is the present.

Ive also known for a long time that fear comes in two pack-

ages: good and bad.

Heres an example of good fear. When I was twelve years

old, my buddies and I would gear up on winter days and plan

these big street fights in our neighborhood. All the kids from

my street or my neighborhood. We wore these big, thick winter

coats, toques and gloves to protect ourselves from the minus-30

Celsius Canadian winters. Wed have these epic battles and beat


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mother 21

each other in the snow until someone gave up. I was pretty good

at that, but sometimes I ate my share of whoopings, especially

from the older kids. We were trying to prove who was tough and

I was really proud, so, many times, I got whooped. There were

no head shots, just body blows. It was fun. I was scared, but I

went anyway because I didnt want to be teased for being scared.

It taught me to be humble. You learn to understand that others

can be stronger than you.

I wasnt always the strong one. Fearmademe. Its why I am

in love with my own fear. Dont misunderstand me: I dont like

fear, but I do love it, and theres a major difference there. Becauseof what my fear makes me do. Because of how my fear has made

me who I am. Some of my fears are terrifying, paralyzing, and I

wont talk to you about those. They take my sleep and my com-

fort away from me. So not here, not now. Because Im not ready

for that yet. I cant. I wont. Im not a machine.

MOTHER: My Georges came out two weeks late. He had lesions

on his face, and soon after that he had scabs all over. There

were five or six doctors checking on him all the time. We

were really scared for him.

The truth is that I didnt start as a winner. When I was a

kid, I was just another reject. I started at the bottom. I think all

winners do.

It was a physical thing, most probably. For some reason I

dont know, I was addicted to licking my lips. I couldnt stop.

Id chew on the collar of my shirt, or Id lick the rim of my lips.

At home, walking to school in the classroom, in the school-

yard, Id constantly be licking my lips, round and round and

round. This wasnt good, especially for a kid who always had

skin problems.


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In fact, my mother told me that even before I left the hos-

pital where I was born, I had all kinds of skin issues. I got bet-

ter, of course, and I grew up all right and everything, but then

when I was eight I had to have a major kidney operationever

notice that big scar on my lower back?and after the operation

I started having psoriasis problems. Again, I got better, but for

a while I wasnt very pretty to look at . . . and no matter what, I

couldnt stop licking my lips.

Eventually, I developed a red rim of raw skin around my

mouth. I must have looked like a diminutive clown, or some-

thing else, something ridiculous. To the other kids around me, Iwas different, weird, an easy target. It would be my first pass at

the world of losing.

Even though Id been studying karate since the age of seven, I

realized when I was nine years old that life isnt like a movie. The

bullies will win. When youre alone and there are three of them,

and when theyre twelve years old and youre a skinny, funny-

looking nine-year-old, youre screwed. You can do all the karate in

the world, you can fight back with everything youve got, but you

will not beat them. I wasnt the Karate Kid, because thats fiction.

Even though fiction is inspired by reality, fiction in commercial art

often omits some very important, verytraumatizingnuances.It was tough being bullied where I grew up because every-

body knows everybody. I come from St-Isidore, a village

of about 2,000 people thats about thirty minutes outside of

Montreal. I didnt have that many friends. I got close to one

kid, an immigrant from Colombia who didnt speak French

or English. We got on just fine, probably because we couldnt

speak to each other at first. We used sign language, although

Im pretty sure he knew what was happening. Hes always been

a really smart guy. Im glad he stuck by me, and that were still

friends today.


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mother 23

Im the kind of person who can deal with insults, but what

actually really makes me angry is when somebody picks on

someone I care for. Thatalways ticks me off. Sometimes when I

got picked on, I got really scared and I ran. But other times I was

being humiliated in front of everybody and didnt have a choice:

I hadto stand and fight. I confronted danger even if I knew I

wasnt going to come out on top. My thinking was,At least Ill get

my shots in and theyll regret it and hopefully they wont try again.

After school, at lunchtime, during recessit happened pretty

much anytime, anywhere. Playing dodgeball, theyd throw the

ball in my face on purpose. Theyd throw it at me when I was onthe sideline, just because. Id be walking off, andpow!Right in

the kisser. Theyd laugh more and Id hurt more because it was

unexpected.

I was always angered by my treatment, but I tried not to

show it. I went through all the emotions, sometimes fear and

avoidance, and other times maybe I was learning to be brave.

I once fought because they spit on my friend and me. I went in

alone, pretending Id forgotten something, and I took a swing at

one of them. They were surprised, especially when I connected.

I got him good. I swung for another one, and that was the mis-

take. They teamed up and I really paid for it. But sometimes youjust cant walk away.

The truth is that bullying has helped make me who I am.

Without it, without those obstacles, I might not be where I am.

The story would be different. Bullying was part of the world I

grew up in, at a key period in my life, and I got through it. It was

mine to face and I did.

Every single day was the same. Id get up, walk to school

past the same houses, along the same streets, by the same trees.

My world was four kilometers square and everything I knew

lived inside it. One day, I started losing my lunch money. Then I


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started losing my pants. I had these cool Adidas tearaway pants,

the ones with the buttons that run along the side and you can

pull off with a stiff yank, like the professional basketball play-

ers had on television. Every day, theyd yank them off me and

laugh. And so I lost my dignity. In front of all the kids I went

to school with. Right there in the schoolyard. Some of the kids

looked on and laughed. Some pointed and whispered. Others,

who were just as scared as I was, hid in the shadows. They prob-

ably thanked their lucky stars it was me getting picked on and

not them. I dont blame them. Because I remember and under-

stand how they must have felt. Luckily, I could take it. And yet,for some reason, I kept wearing those same pants to school.

One night, I came home from school and told my parents how

Id lost my lunch money to bullies. My dad got up from the kitchen

table, walked me straight over to the one of the bullies houses,

told his parents about what he had done to me and demanded an

apology and a promise that he never do it again. Not only did this

tactic not work, but I was totally embarrassed, and so I never told

my parents again about being bullied. My mother says that the

next time she heard Id been bullied as a kid was in a television

interview a few years ago, when I was in my twenties.

The bullies kept at me for almost three yearsuntil theyfound a bigger reject than I was, I guess. Or maybe they just got

bored with me. I dont know why they started leaving me alone,

and frankly I dont care. Maybe I was getting bigger and they

knew I was on the verge of becoming a black belt.

Maybe the most important lesson I learned from my youth

is that I dont ever want to make someone else feel the way these

bullies did to me.

MOTHER: I used to play records with subliminal messages for

Georges when he was young. It was relaxing music to calm


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mother 25

him down, and the messages were always positive, like You

are a loved child or You are a great person, things like

that. It was important to me that he feel good about himself.

When he was eight, he had a major kidney operation.

Thats when he started psoriasis. He had just started karate

too. I remember hed cry after losing at first, but I kept every

single one of his karate evaluations and you can see where he

started and where he got to today. Its incredible.

Some people learn to lose. Others lose and learn. The latter

is a much better approach in my opinion because it focuses themind on the positives and keeps your thoughts away from the

negatives. One of my favorite Japanese proverbs is Fall down

seven times, stand up eight. This understanding extends to all

things, by the way, but you only learn it by losing a few times.

Winning is love. I cried when I won my first title. It was the

best moment of my career. It literally was a dream come true.

Losing, however, is a step along a much longer life path. And the

only way to ascend to new and greater heights is to lose. I have

a special relationship with losing. It scares me to death, but that

doesnt mean I cant find a way of using it to my benefit. Because

losing changes me and turns me into a better man.The first time I learned and understood what losing actu-

ally means, I was just eight years old. I was in grade school and

I remember it like it was yesterday. I can see it in my minds eye.

I recall the details quite vividly because its also the first recollec-

tion of pain in my life.

We were in the schoolyard during recess and a bunch of the

bigger, tougher kids were playing on the snowbanks. Trust me,

there was lots of snow in St-Isidore during the winter. Its what

we call a realwinter. At my school, the plows would push the

snow into these great mounds at the end of the yard. They were


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so high you couldnt see what was on the other side of them. But

they sure were fun to play on. The schoolyard became a fortress

of snow.

So throughout the winters, at lunchtime, wed get out there,

eight and sometimes ten kids, and play King of the Mountain.

Its a simple game: everybody starts at the bottom, you race to

be the first one to reach the top of the mountain, and then you

do anything and everything possible to stay there, on top, being

king.

We were all trying to be kings. The toughest primary-school

kids who had something to prove, they were all there. Les ptitstoughs, I called themthe little toughs. There were no rules.

You could do anything, as long as you stayed atop that mountain.

The kids on my block didnt play King of the Mountain

they were too little or nerdyso I had no idea how it worked,

but I was curious. At first, I just stayed in the distance, watching

this game, trying to understand. One day, leaning against the

wall on the other side of the yard, I decided it didnt look that

tough and I decided to give it a try.

At the start I was pretty scared, but I was also pretty agile.

So I was doing well at first, pushing a few people around and

avoiding major shoves and pushes myself. I was strong enough,I thought, to maybe become king. But what I didnt realize is

that, to the others, I was just the new guy, the rookie, the fresh

meat. The others kids knew each other and how each played,

strengths and weaknesses, tactics and all that. So when you

were the new kid coming into the game, everybody noticed.

Its like in football, when a veteran sees a new guy on the other

side and tells one of his buddies, Let him through once or

twice so I can get a shot on him. At some point, especially in

sport, someones going to test you and see what youre made of.

Thats just the way it is.


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mother 27

One of the kids Id pushed out of my way was getting frus-

tratedhis name was Joel Cavanagh, and Ill never forget it.

After a shove, he turned to me and asked, Georges, do you

want to fight? I thought he just wanted to wrestle, something

to have a bit of fun on the mountain. And so I barely had the

wordyesout of my mouth when he landed a straight right to

my nose.

THWACK!!!

I fell and rolled down the side of the snow mountain, all the

way to the ground. Somewhat dazed, I could tell from the snow

on the ground that my nose was bleeding. I grabbed a handful offlakes and pressed it to my face for two reasons: to stop the bleed-

ing, and to hide my shame! Joel was a nice kid, and we actually

talked about what happened afterward. He was frustrated by

my staying power and he took me by surprise. Every kid in the

yard saw me get knocked down. But I learned something from

it that Ill never forget. I may have lost that mountain, but I won

a valuable lesson that day: the power of the unexpected. Ive been

using it ever since.

The worst punches are the ones you dont see coming. The

ones that dont give your brain an instant to prepare you for the

blow. The ones looking for a place to connect. Especially whenthe thrustbe it a fist, knee or footstrikes your temple or your

chin. Those are the strikes you dont immediately feel. You cant.

Your body gives priority to all of the power exiting it. The pow-

erful and instant displacement of human matter is so great that

your knees buckle, then cease to function. All of you ceases to

function. And you go down.

As for the top of the mountain, lets just say that I learned the

best way not only to become but also to stay king is to keep my

eyes up and my hands ready at all times.


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MOTHER: Georges had all this energy and we had to find new

ways of punishing him. We couldnt make him sit down in

the corner; it wasnt possible. So when he was bad, Id send

him to the monkey bars in the front yard. I told him to go

dump his excess energy there.

At two months, he was sleeping through the night. He

was nine months old the first time he stood, and he took his

first steps at thirteen months. The truth is that he preferred to

walk on all fours, backward, and he was constantly bump-

ing into people. I took him to an audition for the Cirque du

Soleil once, but it wasnt for him. He said hed never weartights like the acrobats. Never. They were all sorts of profes-

sional or Olympic gymnasts at the audition too. He didnt fit

in that day.

As he grew up, he became more and more active, and

he was always on his tiptoes. He could disappear if you

didnt keep your eye on him, and all it took was a few sec-

onds. One day, he was in the yard, tomato planting with his

dad. Georges was two and a half. Dad turned around for

barely a moment, and poof! Georges was gone, vanished.

We looked for him and somehow found him halfway down

the street, near the corner, watching traffic. It was scary . . .Georges was never able to sit still for even thirty sec-

onds. He was always hyperactive. Thats how it was for his

first years.

The best thing I did for him when he was young is buy

him a kids encyclopedia about dinosaurs. He studied that

book and learned it by heart. He fell in love with dinosaurs

and their history and asked for more, and more, and more!

Many people wonder why Im so interested in dinosaurs

and their history. The reason is actually really simple: dinosaurs


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mother 29

were the biggest, most physically powerful creatures that ever

walked the face of the earth, yet now theyre gone. They ruled

the planet for more than 150 million years, but then they be-

came extinct, they just disappeared, and it fascinates me. Ever

since my mom bought me that encyclopedia about dinosaurs,

Ive been obsessed. How could these unbelievably powerful,

fearsome creatures completely disappear?

But Im also fascinated by cockroaches. Unlike the dino-

saur, the cockroach is built for and exists for one single purpose:

survival. Its the total opposite of a dinosaur. Cockroaches are

survival machines. Scientists believe they can survive very highlevels of radiation from a nuclear blast, and thats just the begin-

ning of the story.

The cockroach is one giant nerve, fine-tuned to everything

around it: the environment and all immediate sources of poten-

tial danger. Its adaptable to almost any situation it encounters,

and thats what makes the cockroach so interesting. Its a mobile

radar system designed to identify and avoid threats.

The cockroach doesnt waste a single thing; every part plays

a role. It can run up to three miles per hour. It has faster reflexes

than humans beings. It can live by eating paper or glue. It has

two brains, including one in its behind. It has a set of teeth inits stomach to help it digest food. It can squeeze itself as thin as

a dime. It can go about forty minutes under water on a single

breath. It has been practicing survival for over 280 million years.

A female can stay pregnant her whole life. Its heart doesnt need

to move or beat. It rests for 75 percent of its existence. It lives

in cracks and nooksso, anywhere. It survives at minus-32

degrees Celsius, no problem. It has one giant nerve from head

to tail, and the hairs on its back legs measure disturbances in the

air. And finally, it can live for a full week without its head, until

it diesjust because it cant drink water anymore. For humans,


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the cockroach is rather scary and intimidating, very suspicious

and totally repulsive. It doesnt even have a pretty name: the

cockroach. But it persists.

Dinosaurs were huge and powerful; they could not adapt

and they died out. And so the big difference between dinosaurs

and cockroaches is adaptability: one is able to adjust, while the

other, apparently, couldnt. Dinosaurs didnt make adjustments,

either because they didnt feel they needed to, or couldnt under-

stand that they needed to. They were slowly but surely dying out

as food became scarce and their environment changed around

thembe it temperature or the arrival of mammals.The same analogy applies to fighting, and probably any other

sport. Its not always the strong that survive. It takes brains, guts,

tolerance and forward thinking. Weve seen this since the begin-

ning of mixed martial arts.

Maybe the greatest MMA inspiration for me is Royce Gracie,

who defeated Gerard Gordeau in UFC 1. Royce is not a big man.

Hes about six feet tall and weighs 185 pounds. Gordeau is taller

(six foot five), bigger and physically stronger. In fact, for the

final of the very first UFC, few people thought Royce could win.

Everyone believed his brother Rickson was the better all-around

fighter and better suited to MMA. But it was Royce who got cho-sen to represent the Gracie family style of fighting. And in the

final, it didnt take Royce long to get Gordeau to the mat, trap

him in a chokehold and tap him out.

This match, for me, showed a new way of fighting. It showed

how a smaller, lighter man could beat anybody. It showed how

MMA is more than a fight, its a strategy sport. (Some people

dont see it that way yet, but eventually, they should.)

Royce went on to defeat many opponents who were much

larger than him, including the legendary sumo champion

Akebono. Akebono is six foot eight and almost five hundred


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mother 31

pounds, and the fight lasted barely more than two minutes.

Akebono got on top of Royce, but in a poor position. Royce

squirmed into a better position, slowly, methodically, until he

finally got hold of one of Akebonos gigantic arms. He locked

the wrist and Akebono submitted.

I did everything my trainers told me not to do, Akebono

said after the fight.

What you saw tonight is exactly what I trained to do, said

Royce. I knew I had to bring Akebono to the ground, and I

knew that the best way to do that was to let him come to me. It

worked perfectly.When he fought Royce Gracie in 2004, Akebono was the

dinosaur that couldnt adapt despite his superior metrics across

the board. He was three times the size of Gracie, after all, and

likewise had become expert at a style of fighting. Gracie was

the more fluid fighter, and he stuck with the plan and tweaked

it as he went, seeking new opportunities as the fight evolved.

Im not saying Royce was a cockroach in a derogatory sense,

of coursehes one of my heroesbut his approach and style

were certainly based on constantly adapting to the threat in

front of him. What got the great, big Akebono was a simple

wrist lock.In many ways, my approach also tries to mimic the cock-

roachs survival-based existence: I constantly have to invent

new ways of defeating different and more lethal opponents.

And Ive had to become more efficient as I progress through

my career. This is a critical point because, like the cockroach,

I want to confuse my opponent before the battle even takes

place. I want to psych him out before we fight so I can have the

mental edge.

One of the jobs I had when I was starting out as a mixed

martial artist was as a bouncer in a nightclub near Montreal.


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Every single time I went to work, I had meatheads challeng-

ing me to a fight. It still happens nowadays, and its always in

clubs: guys come up to me, take one look at me and tell me they

can kick my ass. I dont mind at all; its all part of the game for

me. What I used to do when guys got excited at the nightclub is

say, Hey, I cant hear what youre saying, lets go talk about this

outside. Theyd immediately think wed be about to fight, so

theyd eagerly follow me out. Once wed get outside the club, Id

tell them they werent allowed back in because they were acting

like jerks, and theyd be welcome another day, when they were

calmer (and sober). It pissed a lot of them off, but thats all right.It happens. These were just harmless drunks trying to show off

their physical strength, and the best technique was to outsmart

them; psych them outavoid it altogether.

There are still many, many fighters who focus on their brute

strength before perfecting their technique. But they often run

into a wall as they fight better, smarter opponents. In sports, we

see the David-versus-Goliath example all the time.

Ive never been the biggest guy in the octagon, and I dont ever

want to be either. My goal is to be the most efficient, quickest-

thinking fighter. I aim to be flexible, open-minded and ready for

any situation. And so, I may love the dinosaurs and their stories,but Im inspired by the cockroach: the ultimate adapter and the

greatest survivor.

MOTHER: What I remember best is that whenever Georges

started something, he never stopped. Hed see something on

TV, and then hed go alone somewhere and practice it until

he got it. Only then would he come back and show you

what he could do. When he was ten, he saw people on TV

walking on their hands, and so he decided he was going

to do the same. He spent two whole years walking on his


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mother 33

hands at home. Id call the family in for dinner and youd

see these two little legs bobbing in behind the kitchen table.

That was my Georges.

My father first introduced me to Kyokushin karate when I

was seven years old. He had practiced karate for years and was a

black belt himself, and so he taught me the basic principles and

movements in the basement of our home, which hasnt changed

much since my childhood. When you walk down there you can

see the punching bags and gloves and all the other equipment

Ive gathered over the years.When my dad was content that I had learned the basics,

he registered me at a local karate school. I remember my very

first class, a brand new white belt holding my brand newgi taut

against my body. There had to be a hundred other kids in that

classand, in the ensuing weeks and months, I lost fights to

most of them.

After a while, my peers and I had the opportunity to gradu-

ate to green belt, but during the examination, I looked around

and noticed we werent a hundred anymore. Now we were about

fifty. As the years passed by, the number continued to dwindle,

and I noticed that the fewer the number of regular students, themore fights I won. I was still losing a lot, mind you, but I kept

going forward. And I believed my instructors, who constantly

reminded me that I would keep getting better, that I had supe-

rior athletic skills, that I was making progress.

I also listened to my dad, who told me I should never quit,

no matter how slowly it seemed I was developing or how long it

took me to improve. One of my friends even remarked that I was

stubborn, independenthyperactive, even! Years later I

can confirm that he was on the mark: once, to prove a point, I

walked on my hands for almost two years.


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By the time I got to the brown belt level, we were fewer

than ten students, and when I was almost thirteen years old

and going for my first black belt, there were only two of us

standing there. This is when I first reflected on the recent past

and realized that, though I had lost a lot more fights than I had

won during the previous five years, I had changed: now, I was

finding new, innovative ways of losing fights.I was learning from

my losses, and this led to me win some close fights that I used

to lose before.

With the help of my father and my teachers, I learned about

resiliency, but at thirteen, I wasnt yet approaching losing froma philosophical perspective. At one point I had even tried to quit

karate altogether. I was twelve years old and tired of losing and

tired of my teacher, who, in retrospect, was a great mentor but a

hard man. We used to get slapped around and barked at a lot. In

fact, in todays world, he probably wouldnt be allowed to be as

tough on kids as he had been, but this was another time, another

era. One day I told my dad I was quitting karate for good. He

wouldnt hear of it. He just looked up at me and stared into my

eyes: You can quit when youre a black belt, he stated plainly.

Dont ever quit anything until youve reached the end. He

went back to whatever he was reading, which was the indicatorthat that was the end of the conversation. I had no choice but to

go back. Thank goodness I did.

Funnily, one of my sisters was in the same class and she too

decided to quit. But instead of talking about it with my dad, she

hid in the cornfields behind our house so that nobody would

force her to go back. We still laugh about that one. Im thankful

to my dad, though, because this was one potentially lost oppor-

tunity that would have altered my life for the worse. He turned

this seemingly small episode into an eternal truth: always finish

what youve started.


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mother 35

* * *

Of course, I never actually liked losing, and I still had no idea

how losing would help make me a better person. Between the

ages of thirteen and seventeen, I was living according to a new

emotion: anger. I didnt understand why Id been bullied, and it

really bothered me. I wondered what Id done wrong, and what

was wrong with me. I decided I wasnt going to relive my past as

a bullied kid, and at first, as I kept getting better at karate, I just

wanted to learn more ways of breaking arms and hurting people.

I had a lot of hatred, a lot of anger. And I really wanted revengeon the bullies.

Thats what happens after youve been bullied. Some bullied

kids become class clowns because they want to be liked so badly

that they think making people laugh will bring them back to

respectability. I know people like that. Other bullied kids go into

hiding and aim for invisibility, hoping the world never again

takes notice of them. Some bullied kids become bullies them-

selvesnot because they enjoy being bullies, but more because

they figure that if they do, nobody else will bully them anymore.

And some choose to fight the world of bullies on their own.

MOTHER: Georges never opened his school books a lot, but he

always made sure to do the necessary work and pass all his

courses. He also always respected his teachers and elders.

Although I wasnt the type who was going to step out and

start fights, I decided I wasnt going to walk away from one ever

again. This kind if thinking translated to how I behaved in class

with other students.

One of the important lessons I learned from my parents is

always to respect authority figures like teachers. While some of


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our teachers were pretty annoying and rude, one of them was

really warm and kind. She always encouraged me and treated

me like I had something special. Of course, she taught religion

and spirituality. I decided I was going to police her course and

keep the kids under control so she could teach uninterrupted.

This isnt a bad thing, but it certainly didnt make me any more

popular at school.

One day, this guy kept on teasing me, and I decided Id had

enough. We got into a fight, and not only did I win, but I broke

his arm.

And then my world changed.After thinking about what Id done, I was a little ashamed of

having hurt him so bad, and I thought people wouldnt want to

be near me. I actually thought Id be cast out even further from

the norm. But it was just the opposite. Now I was popular. I had

been a reject for a long time, and then one day I got in a fight and

broke a guys arm and all of a sudden I was popular.

I knew it was bullshit. It pissed me off that Id become popular

because Id kicked a guys ass. I thought it was stupid, even though

people liked me now. I thought people were stupid, and I didnt

give a crap what they thought of me anymore, not at all, and I

didnt hesitate to tell them exactly what I thought of them.

MOTHER: By the time he got to high school, I think he was very

lonely. He was home a lot. He didnt have many friends, but

I remember our dogs wanted to sleep next to his bed or in

front of his door. He had a special relationship with those

dogs, a shepherd and a collie. They followed him everywhere.

I think the reason he was so lonely is that he didnt know

what to do with his geniusson gnie, as we say in Que-

bec. I felt he was purposely isolating himself from others. He

did have two very nice girlfriends for a while, but I think


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mother 37

they became possessive, and you never tell Georges what to

do. His training always comes first. Always.

I rejected the world Id come from. I lost my bearings, my

foundation. I could feel the world shifting beneath my feet, and

my struggle was to keep balance. It was ridiculous that people

would start respecting me now because of this event. So I real-

ized it wasnt real respect, it was fear, and that pissed me off even

more! So I focused on training because it was the only thing I

was sure I wanted to be doing. I withdrew, slowly, surely, into

my own shell. I went back to my dads basement and the gym.It was the only thing that made me feel good. Back when I was

a kid going through this for the first time, I didnt know what

else to do. I didnt know what I was going to do with my life. I

had no idea what I would become. It just felt good to be training.

Working. Moving forward.

So I slowly drew away into my own world, my own invented

existence.

MOTHER: I have to admit that at first we didnt understand

the Georges we saw fighting in the octagon. We didnt know

where the anger or the vengeance came from. This inner ragewas foreign to us. For his first-ever fight in Laval, he had to

convince me to go, and he kept talking about the technical

side of martial arts. He said to me, Tell me what you think

after you see me fight, not before.

We havent missed any of his fights since.

Hes changed a lot too, like hes transformed himself.

How he speaks, the way he moves, the style he dresses. Hes

always still the same Georges, but when I see him on TV, I

see that hes created another personality.

It makes me wonder sometimes where he comes from.


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A lot of people who have known me for many years say there

are two Georges. They see and hear two of me, they say. There is

one Georges theyve always known. And then there is this other

Georges who, if not entirely different, seems unknown and sur-

prisingly distinct.

My mother often says she doesnt recognize me when she hears

me giving media interviews. My own entourage, who spend more

time with me than anyone ever hassometimes they just look at

me after Ive spoken, and they stare. Like they werent expecting

those words to come out of me. Like its not really me.

I think I know when I first noticed the changethe otherGeorges, as they call it. I was nineteen years old and had just

started my MMA career. The years before turning nineteen

had been long and tough and filled with doubt. Darkness. The

dreams I had were still stuck inside me, and I didnt know how

to voice them yet. I started behaving differently, making deci-

sions that surprised some people. Like going to New York City

to seek out new coaches, new knowledge.

I understand what people mean by their idea of two Georges.

Theres me in a hostile environment, when I need to be hard and

without pity, and then theres me when Im in relaxed surround-

ings. Theres quite a difference . . .At the end of high school, I stopped talking to people, stopped

connecting and just focused on myself. I discovered a darker side,

a darker place in my existence. Im not sure exactly how to explain

it. I just think it was part of my evolution. Ive been a good and

nice person at times, and it has helped me win opportunities, and

other times Ive been pitiless because thats what the situation

demanded of me. Genetics and environment are the determining

factors in that equation. Where I come from, and the people who

came before me, helped make me who I am today.

Determinism is something I strongly believe in. I have the


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mother 39

illusion that I control all of my actions, but in reality I dont. Its

like a pool tableyou hit the cue ball and it strikes the other

balls and sends them on a path thats beyond your control, even

if you know where the balls are going. Life is like that, just more

complex. Its the butterfly effect, and each gesture has an impact

on the final result. It means I control most of my reactions, and

as I get better and acquire more knowledge, my preparation to

meet my fate is improved.

The key has always been simple, though: discovery. Even

though other people had started voicing their opinions on my

potential, I remained silent. Until I discovered exactly what it isthat I wanted to do: become a mixed martial artist. That discov-

ery gave belief to my inner dreams because I started seeing the

concrete possibility that I could become a fighter, a true fighter.

And so the change was going from having visions about my life

to living them concretely.

At this stage in my life I left many, many things behind. I con-

stantly heard Kristofs words whispered in my ear, and it triggered

a reaction inside me and I realized: this is what I want to do. I

want to become champion of the world in mixed martial arts.

And then, all of my energy, everything I had inside of me,

went toward achieving that unique goal. I wasnt making sac-rifices anymore, I was making decisions.Train instead of party.

Work instead of play. Perfect practice instead of casual repetition.

I started living life with purpose and direction. In the words

of Buddha: First, intention; then, enlightenment.

the way of the fight, gsp.pdf

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